1913
by Swagman
Summary: Rose accompanies the Doctor to the Farringham School in 1913 instead of Martha.
1. Chapter 1

**Farringham, 1913:**

Rose watched with a smile as the Doctor, no, John Smith now, opened his eyes and picked himself up off the ground. It would be great fun to spend some time back in the past, she thought. No aliens trying to kill us, no Mum nagging me to visit more often, no Mickey trying to make me feel guilty about leaving him behind. Just me and the Doctor. She looked down at her too-short dress, tugging at it in a futile attempt to lower it. Maybe I should have put on something longer, she thought, remembering their visit to the Victorian Age. Rose shrugged off the thought, tossing back her long hair.

Meanwhile, John Smith tried to get his bearings. He felt as if his brain was wrapped in cotton wool.

I'm John Smith, he thought, as the confusion began to lift. John Smith, Professor of History at the Farringham School. I start my new position today. He glanced over at Rose, noting her appearance with disapproval. Why that dress scarcely reaches the tops of her shoes and that hair is certainly not a color found in nature, he thought. This female is whom exactly?

Fings sure are different 'ere," Rose said, looking around the quaint English village.

Smith winced. He didn't consider himself a snob, but the cockney predilection for misplacing the 'H" and inability to properly pronounce the 'th' sound had always irritated him.

More memories returned. She was Rose, Rose, Taylor was it? No, it was something else. She was his . . . companion? No, she was his servant, Smith thought. Yes, that was it, this girl was his maidservant, an old family retainer who was to accompany him to his new position. An old family retainer? No, that didn't seem right. This girl was definitely a Londoner. He looked doubtfully at Rose, noting her bare head. He wondered what the Headmaster would make of this young person who most certainly did not seem to be a proper domestic. No, this would not do at all, he thought.

"Um, Miss, I'm sorry, but this won't do," Smith said.

Rose laughed. "What are you running your gob about now?" she said

Smith was both shocked and irritated at her impertinence. "Miss, you don't appear to be, well, I must be honest, suited for domestic work. "

"Wot!" Rose said.

"I am prepared to be generous; I'll pay your fare back to London, but you simply cannot accompany me to my new position," Smith said. "You must return to London at once," he said.

Rose gaped at him. For one horrible moment she thought he was serious. Then she burst into laughter, not noticing Smith's anger.

"Why, wot's wrong with me ," Rose said. Smith winced again.

"I should think it is obvious,' he replied, gesturing at her dress. "That, outfit, it's, a bit short. And your hair, it's, quite frankly, loose. I'm sorry, but you don't look like any housemaid I've ever seen."

Rose laughed and tossed her hair again. "I guess I'll be one of those sexy housemaids", she said cheekily.

Sexy housemaid! Smith could scarcely believe his ears. What kind of woman was this?

He looked more closely at the girl, his unease turning into something near panic. Why she's a painted tart, he thought in shock. That hair, that immodest dress! What was I thinking, bringing her to Farringham as my maidservant? No one will believe my intentions were innocent. I'll be dismissed, sacked without a character, ruined. And for what! A cockney trollop! I must disassociate myself from this person before anyone from the school sees me.

Much to his relief he realized they were nearly upon the train station. He practically ran up to the ticket counter, leaving a surprised Rose standing in the middle of the street.

"What'll it be sir?" the ticket agent said.

"One one-way ticket to London, third class," Smith said. He felt inside his pockets. Finding his wallet he quickly extracted several notes and thrust them into the ticket agent's hand, took the ticket, swiftly returned to Rose, gripped her arm firmly and steered her towards the platform.

Rose protested to no avail. She tried to pull away, but to make matters worse, the fobwatch fell out of her pocket. Smith snatched it up and said, "I'll take that, thank you very much,".

Rose tried to grab the watch from Smith, who glared at her, and said, "If you don't get on that train immediately I'll have you arrested for stealing."

Rose, too shocked too speak, complied. John Smith watched the train depart, relieved that no one had seen him in the company of that painted harlot. He made his way to the Farringham School, introduced himself and quickly settled in.

The train ride was long and uncomfortable, made worse by the behavior of her fellow passengers. As she sat huddled in the hard seat she could hear snatches of conversation, "disgraceful", "outrageous", "an affront to decency". She turned her head towards the window to escape the disapproving stares. Why are they treating me like this?, she thought dismally, ignorant of the fact that prior to WWI only prostitutes wore cosmetics and any dress shorter than floor length was considered shockingly immodest.

Finally the train arrived at it's destination. Rose wandered the streets aimlessly for hours, the gravity of her situation gradually dawning on her.

Three days later:

**Farringham School:**

John Smith gazed on the lavish evening meal. Good food, good company, an interesting job, my life is certainly looking up, he thought happily. Yes, good company, especially Matron Redfern. For one brief moment a memory began to surface in Smith's mind. There was something important that he must do, something vital, someone he must care for.

"Are you pleased with Farringham so far, Mr. Smith?" Joan Redfern said, breaking into his reverie.

John Smith looked at Nurse Redfern, noting her modest dress, her hair decently arranged, not loose and slatternly, her face innocent of paint. A lady to her fingertips, he thought approvingly, not like that girl, Lily was it? He dismissed the memory of that creature, gave Joan his most charming smile, said, "Yes, yes, quite. I can't imaging being anywhere else."

**London:**

Rose huddled in the doorway of an abandoned warehouse. She shivered with more than the cold as she remembered the events of the last three days. She gnawed on an apple she'd managed to snatch from a barrow, the fruit doing little to assuage the hunger she felt. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Rose pulled the piece of sacking she'd found more tightly around her shoulders. Her stomach, not sated by the meager piece of fruit, growled. She began to sob quietly, the tears running down her face.

A cold rain began to fall.


	2. Chapter 2

London - 1923:

John Smith looked around uneasily at the unfamiliar street. He had definitely taken a wrong turn and found himself in a poor, shabby area of the city. He stopped to rest, leaning against a building while taking his bearings.

He hated this hustling, bustling city full of foreigners and motorcars and thought longingly of his dear Farringham, a proper English village, where he knew everyone and horse-drawn carts still were a common sight. I m turning into a stodgy old codger, he thought ruefully. Before I know it, I ll start sentences with In my day . . . and rant about the good old days when ladies didn t wear cosmetics and the glimpse of an ankle was considered shocking. Fortunately, I don t have business in the capitol very often. Now, how do I get back to the station?

He started to walk towards what appeared to be a main thoroughfare when he saw a woman slumped against a wall. She was dressed in ragged old clothes; her hair was lank and dirty.

A beggar, well, I can spare a few bob for the poor old thing, there but for the grace of God, go I, he thought. He took a closer look at the woman, noting that she appeared to be pregnant. Not as old as all that, he thought. He felt a stab of pity for both the miserable woman and her unfortunate child.

The woman, realizing that Smith was watching her, made a game effort to pull herself together. Care to change your luck? she said dully, repetition having robbed the words of all meaning.

The woman, came closer, grabbed the lapels of his suit, ground her body against him and said, Come on, gov, I can take you around the world.

Smith was dumbfounded. Perhaps he d led a sheltered life, but women, in his experience, simply didn t behave in such a manner.

Erm, uh, uh, no, he managed to squeak out. A wave of revulsion washed over him. He d never resorted to the dubious charms of loose woman; his Joan was more than enough for him.

The woman looked up into Smith s face, truly seeing him for the first time. She stared in shock for a moment, and then tried to speak.

Before she could finish her first sentence, Smith recovered his wits. He pushed the woman away and ran as fast as he could towards the main road.

Hours later, after he was comfortably ensconced in the first class compartment, heading back towards his home and family, he wondered, why did that creature call me Doctor? 


	3. Chapter 3

Saint Swithin's Hospital - London, 1963

John Smith was dying.

It was late, long past visiting hours. The nursing staff had retreated to their night duty station; only the cleaning personnel were active.

He'd come to this hospital several days ago and submitted himself to an intrusive battery of tests and procedures more out of courtesy to his personal physician than any expectation of a cure. All the poking and prodding, all the concern and consultations had been to no avail. His body was simply wearing out.

Alone for the first time in days, he began to reflect on his life. A long career, a happy marriage, two fine children, I really can't complain, he thought. I've had a good run compared to so many others. Still, that doesn't make leaving Joan, Jamie and Sarah any easier.

John smiled at the thought of his son Jamie. Now there's a son to be proud of. A double first at Oxford, perfect scores on every exam, and now a fine career with that new United Nations Taskforce. Pity he can't tell me much about his work, John thought. I just hope it isn't too dangerous.

Unable to sleep, John started to look through a bag of personal items his son had brought to the hospital. He ignored the books and crossword puzzles and pulled out an antique pocket watch. I don't know why I asked Jamie to bring this thing, he thought. I've never once used it; it probably hasn't kept the proper time in over a century. For the first time in fifty years he really looked at the watch, studying with interest the strange loopy inscription. Acting on a sudden irresistible compulsion, he opened it.

If anyone had been watching they would have seen John Smith's wasted body shimmer with a golden haze, then reform as a young, vital man.

He threw off the bedcovers, leapt out of bed, ran to the lavatory and stared at his reflection with astonishment. Memories, images, sights and sounds of nine hundred years of existence flooded his mind.

I'm young again, he thought. I'm young, I'm strong. I am The Doctor! He threw back his head and laughed. I am the Doctor and I'm back! Senses he hadn't used for half a century reactivated. He could feel the faint call of the TARDIS echoing in his mind.

The Doctor went back into the room and found his clothes. As he dressed, he thought, I hope the old girl isn't too angry that I forgot about her for half a century. No, to a TARDIS, fifty years is nothing. From her perspective it's only been yesterday since Rose and I left her.

The Doctor froze. He had forgotten all about Rose Tyler. Worse, he had sent her away, packing her off to London with no money, no identification, and no place to go. How could I have been so cruel, he thought as a wave of guilt washed over him. She trusted me, she depended on me. I can't simply go back to the exact moment I sent her packing back to London. If I do, I'll create a paradox that could destroy the universe.

Wait one moment, he thought, giddy with relief. I can't go back to Farringham to get Rose, but there's nothing stopping me from meeting up with her later. As long as I don't cross my own timeline, everything will be all right. I'll just fire up the TARDIS, nip back to London and pick Rose up the moment she gets off the train. Rose will be a wee bit angry with me, but I'll take her to Feldspoon to make up for it.

On his way out of the hospital he passed an elderly charwoman scrubbing the floor, her pail of cold, dirty water slopping onto the tiles as she slowly worked her way towards down the long corridor. Poor old thing, he thought as he took in her wispy gray hair, chapped hands and shabby clothes, you can tell she's had a hard life.

He looked closer at the old woman; something about her was vaguely familiar.

The woman, feeling the Doctor's eyes upon her, looked up inquiringly. "Can I help you sir?" she said.

"Um, no," the Doctor responded, feeling strangely uneasy.

The woman peered up at the Doctor's face, her expression changing from mild curiosity to shock then anger.

The Doctor was puzzled. Why on earth was this strange old woman angry with him?, he thought.

The woman stood up and took a step towards the Doctor. "You!" she snarled. "You bastard! You abandoned me! You ruined my life!"

The Doctor stared with dawning horror into the bitter accusing eyes of Rose.

The end.


End file.
